


Liver Twins

by MDJensen



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Crying, Danny disagrees, Gen, Steve doesn't think he's worth Danny's liver, Yelling, hospital heart-to-hearts, post 6x25
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 16:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13907574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MDJensen/pseuds/MDJensen
Summary: In which Steve has abandonment issues, and half of his best friend's liver.Set directly after 6x25. Slight references to my storyTruth or Darebut you absolutely do not have to have read that.





	Liver Twins

It’s a couple more minutes before Steve shuts up, babbling about the plot of the soap opera, about what they’re going to have for dinner now that he’s gotten the okay to try some solid food, and isn’t it pathetic that Jell-O and meatloaf sounds ridiculously appealing right now? Danny doesn’t answer. He just lies in bed, half of him loving the sound of Steve’s voice and half of him so angry he can barely breathe. What’s worse is that both halves feel like crying. It must be the morphine because that’s been happening all goddamn week, mostly alone when the lights go out but a few times flopped heavily against Chin’s shoulder, but he doesn’t want to cry now because _curtains don’t block sound_ and he just doesn’t want Steve to know--

What? That he’s having a hard time dealing with it? That in his rush to get back to their typical insults Steve pretty well hit a nerve and it’s the hundredth last straw this week?

Whatever. It might be an indelicate time to say this, but he’s kind of completely over Steve Mc-Fucking-Garrett.

Luckily Steve seems to have fallen asleep, like he meant to. Either that or he’s just decided to shut up, and Danny hopes it’s the first one, but either way it’s better now. It’s quiet. There’s nothing around him but hospital pastels and morphine and pain, and prospect of a month off-duty during which maybe he can get a few good days in with Charlie before his son gets old enough to hate him, because apparently he’s just so hateable--

“Danny?”

Not asleep, then.

“What?” Danny snaps. He feels a little bit bad about it once it’s out, because Steve sounds just as awful as Danny feels. Weak and in pain, though he’d sounded almost normal a few minutes ago.

“I, uh,” Steve starts, sounding no better. “I crossed a line there. I’m sorry, buddy.”

“No, please. I love hearing how much my children will grow to hate me. Grace’s time is almost here, I can feel it.”

“That was out of line.”

“Yeah, it was.” Maybe he should be grateful for the rare apology, but he’s not. He’s pissed off and tired and all he wants to do is down a pint of shitty whiskey and shower until the water runs cold, but he can’t soak the stitches, and he can’t drink with half a liver. “I know insulting me is one of your most treasured pasttimes, but I actually would really prefer if you could leave my kids out of it in the future. Thanks.”

“Nah, they think you’re a hero. They’re too young to understand.”

“Too young to-- excuse me? Understand what?”

“Understand what you did.”

“It almost sounds like you are angry with me, Steve, and I don’t know why you would be, considering I just saved your life. Don’t be grateful; I don’t care. But you’re gonna be angry with me?”

Steve yanks the curtain back, and Danny sees how red his face is before he turns his own face away. “You’re goddamn right I’m angry with you, Danny! How could I not be?”

“How could you not be? I don’t-- I don’t get it.”

“You gave me your _liver_! How stupid can you be?”

“How stupid-- _excuse me_?!” Inside his chopped-up guts Danny feels his own anger really working loose--

But he squashes it down. He can do that, despite rumors to the contrary, and he sees what’s up now. It’s Steve’s shit, it’s just Steve’s abandonment shit, though he’s never called it that. Danny’s not an idiot and Steve’s not as much of a closed book as he likes to think he is.

Danny takes a few deep breathes before speaking again.

“Real question,” he says, calmly. “Actual question, all jokes about you being a cheapskate aside. Would you, Steve McGarrett, have given me half of your fucking liver in the reverse of this situation?”

“Of course,” Steve snaps, sounding more hurt than ever.

“So I did what you would have done.”

“It’s not the same. Danny, you’re got a family, you risked your life for me--”

“I risk my life for you every goddamn day! I jumped off a roof for you last week!”

“It’s different, and you know it.”

“Fine. Fine, it’s different. I risked my life for you. You would’ve for me.”

There’s a long pause, and then a garbled little voice. “Shouldn’t’ve.”

“I shouldn’t have?”

“Goddamn it, no! Danny, if you died on that table-- two kids lose a father, two parents lose a son, Eric loses his uncle--”

“What, we’re worth the quantity of the people that love us now? Steve, you die on that table and Oahu loses its fucking Superman, right? Mary loses her brother, if you want to come at it from that angle, and Joanie loses her uncle. And I lose my best goddamn friend!”

Steve doesn’t react to this. Instead he takes a slow, shaky breath. “It’s too much, Danny.” And the morphine must be getting to him too because Steve’s got tears in his eyes. “I never asked you to-- to do that much for me.”

“Jesus Christ, Steve,” Danny moans. It’s still true that Steve has the emotional maturity of a child but in moments like this it’s more heartbreaking than it is annoying. He sort of wants to scoop the guy up and kiss the top of his head. “I don’t know how many more times I have to say that you matter to me. The shit you go through, I’ll go through too. Literally, in this case. Aw, babe-- don’t cry,” Danny adds, because Steve’s got one hand over his eyes now, and he’s biting his lip, hard. “Don’t cry. This is like the guitar all over again.”

Steve sniffles, then blows out a slow breath. “Only it’s an internal organ,” he croaks.

“In for a penny,” Danny says, and Steve laughs wetly. They fall silent for a few minutes, and Danny watches as Steve calms himself down, stops crying-- and then, with little warning, seems to start again.

“Aw, Stevie,” Danny sighs. “Go to sleep, huh? What happened to that idea?”

But Steve shakes his head a little, and Danny realizes that the hitch in his breathing doesn’t sound as much like sobbing as it does like breathing through pain. Damn.

“Head again?” Danny asks, quietly.

Steve grunts.

“You gonna puke?” It wouldn’t be the first time since they became roommates.

“No,” Steve whispers, though he doesn’t sound entirely sure.

“Want me to call a nurse?”

“No. No, it-- it doesn’t last.” Steve scrubs his eyes, then finally takes his hand away; he’s gone pale, which makes Danny feel sick, but he’s breathing more or less normally.

“Can I do anything?”

Steve shakes his head. But in the next second he’s swinging his legs to the side of the bed, and Danny yelps at the utter stupidity. “What the hell, Steve? You need a nurse-- Steve, you need your walker-- where you goin’, buddy?” Because yeah, it’s pretty annoying needing help to get to the bathroom, Danny’s with him on that, but that’s life, and anyway if he’s gotta puke there’s a basin within arm’s reach for that, no need to get up at all--

Oh.

Steve pushes to his feet and lumbers the short distance between their beds, then lowers himself stiffly onto Danny’s. Danny sighs and makes room.

“If you’d’ve fallen, I would’ve left you on the floor,” Danny advises, as Steve settles. “Ten minutes at least.”

Steve breathes out heavily, though he sounds more content than anything, and lets himself lay back against the raised-up mattress. Leave it to Steve McGarrett to stake a claim on somebody else’s _hospital bed_.

Worse things have happened though. Side-by-side he can feel the healthy warmth of Steve’s body, and Danny actually lets himself untense a little, tipping his head in Steve’s direction. It’s not a roomy fit, but it’s not tight enough to be uncomfortable. Honestly Danny thinks he may even be able to fall asleep like this, though the last few nights have seen some of the worst insomnia of his life.

He doesn’t mention this, though.

“Comfy?”

“Mm.”

“Yours wasn’t good enough?”

“Was empty,” Steve murmurs, wriggling closer. Neither of them can lie in any position but on their backs, but Steve seems determined to snuggle as much as this constraint allows. Big stupid insecure lap dog that he is.

Danny takes him in. He’s looked better, but he’s looked worse too. Now his eyes are closed, but not like he’s sleeping-- like he’s thinking of the best way to say something. It’s a few minutes before it comes out, though.

“You flew a plane,” Steve whispers.

“I crashed a plane,” Danny corrects. “Onto a beach, with you dying in the chair next to me. We’re at two panic attacks about that and counting, thanks.”

“Real panic attacks?”

“No, CGI.”

Steve snorts with laughter, which Danny appreciates, given that he’s had better comebacks than that.

“They sedated me for one,” he admits. “Guess my heartrate was getting pretty bad. Chin kinda got me through the other one. I think I’m afraid of planes now. By the way.”

“I’ll add it to the list.”

“Fuck off.”

“Thanks for the liver,” Steve murmurs, voice softening out of nowhere. “I like it.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“You still mad?”

“No. You still mad I was mad?”

“I wasn’t mad you were mad. I was mad you told me my son was gonna hate me just like you do.”

“Nobody hates you, Danno.”

“Then don’t say you do.”

“You tell me you hate me all the time!”

Steve has him there.

“Okay,” Danny grumbles. “Just maybe don’t tell me you hate me this recently after near death experiences. Okay?”

“I love you,” Steve says, instead.

Danny feels him looking over, and turns to meet his eyes. “I love you, partner,” Steve says again. “Your kids love you. Everybody loves you.”

His eyes are starting to sting again, so Danny turns away. “Yeah,” he snorts. “I can tell by all the cards I got.”

“Tell me you’re not upset because Sang Min didn’t send you a love letter,” Steve says, almost hesitating.

“Fuck you.”

“Danny--”

“No, I’m not upset because of the cards!” Danny snaps. “I’m not upset because of anything you said. Fuck it, Steve, I’m upset because you all but fucking died in my arms, okay?”

Steve’s expression when Danny looks back at him is open, and a little shattered. “I didn’t.”

“Right,” Danny says-- but then the tears start coming. Steve makes a quiet noise and takes Danny’s hand.

“Don’t cry, Danno--”

“Fuck you!” Danny snaps, crushing Steve’s hand in his. “Don’t tell me not to cry. It’s been a fucking week, I still hear your voice every time I try to sleep-- _I’m gonna die, Danny_ , you said, _I’m gonna die_ , just like that, don’t tell me not to cry when I can still smell the fucking blood!”

Claustrophobia is setting in, which is stupid in this big room, but the thing is that he can’t move, can’t roll onto his side, and even if he could he doesn’t know which way he’d want to go-- away from Steve, give him nothing but back-- or towards him, against him, curl up against his shoulder--

He does neither. Instead Danny puts a hand over his eyes and just lets himself cry, because all else aside, he and Steve are pretty damn used to each other’s worsts.

And sure enough, Steve just rides it out with him. He rubs a thumb over Danny’s hand while Danny sobs out all the grief, the dread, that’s been clotted up deep and rancid in his chest.

Steve’s alive. Jesus Christ, Steve’s not dead.

They’re both not dead. Danny landed the plane. Steve made it through surgery.

When he finally stops crying his whole body aches from the effort. He gasps down a few good breaths and just lays there, feeling the air fill up his lungs, feeling Steve waiting patiently at his side.

“Ge’mme--” Danny croaks, and clears his throat. “Get me a tissue, please?” Steve does, putting his freaky long arms to good use to grab the box from the table between their beds. Danny takes a few, blows his nose. He can’t aim for the trashcan from where he is so he just sort of tosses them to the foot of the bed; he’ll guilt Chin into taking care of it later. Steve takes the box, goes to put it back.

“Leave it,” Danny mutters. “I’m not sure I’m done.”

“Carlin would love this, you know. Look at us, you’re crying--”

“ _I’m_ crying?”                               

“--we’re talking about our feelings--”

“We’re spooning,” Danny adds, even though they’re not. This seems to remind Steve, though, that their hands have come separated, and he folds them back together. Then, apparently for good measure, he leans into Danny’s side.

“Doesn’t that hurt your arm?”

“Arm’s nothing,” Steve mutters. “Barely feel it.”

“Okay.”

“My stomach hurts, though.”

“Again with the puking?” Danny yelps and Steve groans.

“Not in a pukey way. In a GSW way.”

Fair enough. Anyway, if Steve’s arm doesn’t hurt, then he won’t mind if Danny puts his head on his shoulder.

“Hey.”

“Mm?”

“I love you too, okay?”

“I know. You gave me your liver.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

“Something tells me I won’t be able to,” Steve murmurs. Then he groans. “I don’t think I’ve been this tired since BUD/S.”

“Go to sleep, then.”

“Can I stay here?”

“If you must,” Danny grumbles, but the fact is that he wants Steve to stay even more than Steve does, probably, because even hearing the breathing, feeling the warmth beside him isn’t enough to wipe away the memory of blood. And now that’s he’s started he kind of can’t stop--

A sob escapes Danny’s chest, and then new tears start coming; he pulls a face when Steve looks over. “Told you I wasn’t done,” he huffs, grabbing a tissue.

“You’re gonna dehydrate yourself. End up back on fluids.”

“Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you _fuck you_!” He’s got the tissue to his eyes even though, to be fair, what his mouth is doing right now is a lot uglier. “You almost _died_! It would _kill_ me to lose you, _you understand that_?!”

Steve says nothing. A beat or two later, though, he makes a little gulping noise, and Danny looks up to find a second round of tears flooding his cheeks as well.

“What the fuck?” Danny hiccups. “Why are you crying?”

“Because you’re crying!” Steve yelps, holding his hands up like he’s praying for strength from the idiocy of the question. Danny looks at him, his pretty face all red and scrunched up-- and laughs. And laughs some more. And scrubs his face with his hand, forgetting his has a tissue, throwing it on the ground when he finally remembers.

“What?” Steve demands, not laughing, still crying. “What?”

“Liver twins,” Danny giggles. “Pinch yourself, see if I can feel it.”

“Screw you, Danny. It’s not because--”

“I know,” Danny breathes out, sobering. Finally feeling done with both the laughter and the tears. “I know. Because you got hurt and I’m crying for you, and that’s a lot to take in for you, huh? Seven years and you still think I don’t care about you. Jeez, you make me feel guilty. You want me to text you good morning every day like my Ma?”

More than ever now Danny’s expecting a response. But Steve just sits there, tears coming faster and faster, and Danny works his arm around Steve’s back and rubs his uninjured shoulder. “Hey. It’s okay, you’re okay. You were worth the guitar and you’re worth half my liver. You’re worth it, okay? Stop crying.”

“Can’t,” Steve chokes out. “ _Danno_.”

“Oh boy. Okay. That’s life, huh? You just gotta cry it out sometimes.” Danny smiles, though Steve’s not looking. “I’m here with you, okay? If it’s comin’, let it come.”

Steve does. One hand over his face, other arm braced around his belly, he cries, haltingly, like he’s not sure he’s doing it right but like he just. Can’t. Stop. And Danny rubs his arm and murmurs steadily, because maybe he can’t fix anything, but talking, that he can do.

It eases slowly, but it does ease. The lines around Steve’s eyes lessen and the tears leaking out from between his goopy lashes slow; Danny breathes against his neck so he can feel the rhythm. Steve nods, taking the cue.

“You’re okay,” Danny promises, as Steve wrestles to make his breathing match Danny’s. “You’re okay. I gotcha.” And, ignoring the ache in his ribs, Danny pulls Steve against him, propped against his side, head resting heavily on his shoulder. “I gotcha. I gotcha.” And Danny strokes his hair and wipes his tears until at last, at last, they stop coming.

It’s quiet in the room now. Steve sighs, more asleep than awake thanks to the potent combo of catharsis and pain meds.

“G’nna discharge me,” Steve whispers, into Danny’s shoulder.

“Soon as they can, babe, but you got a few more days at least.”

“Nn,” Steve moans. “Navy, Danno.”

“Oh,” Danny sighs. “Navy’s gonna discharge you, because of the transplant?”

“Mm. Gonna be on meds the rest’f my life. Makes you fuzzy. You forget things. I m’ght--” the air catches audibly in his throat. “Might not ev’n b’able to stay w’th Five-0--”

“Hey,” Danny murmurs, tugging him closer. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. _If_ we come to it, babe, and I don’t think we will.”

“Will you stay?”

“You’re in my bed, remember?” Danny snorts, though he still goes warm somewhere in his chest.

“No. ‘f I have to leave Five-0... will you stay w’ me?”

And what the fuck is there to say to that, besides--

“Yes,” Danny hisses, jostling Steve as much as he dares to. “Damnit, yes. Instead of questioning the liver, how ‘bout you take it as proof, huh? I’m not going anywhere. I’m not gonna leave you, babe; I’m just not.”

Steve’s face crunches up a bit at this, and his eyes fill, but he doesn’t cry again. Exhaustion bleeds off him like heat.

“Go to sleep,” Danny sighs. “I’m right here, Steve, go to sleep, babe. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“You’re so tired I can _feel_ you being tired, in my guts. It’s makin’ me sick.”

Steve sniffles, but his lips quirk up. “I said ‘kay, Danno. ‘m gonna go to sleep.”

“And I’ll stay.”

“An’ you’ll stay.”

“Because I give a shit.”

“Because you love me,” Steve mumbles, really smiling now, but he closes his eyes before he can see Danny rolling his own.

“Yup. Uh-huh. Sleep now, McGarrett.”

And finally, Steve does.

**Author's Note:**

> Um, I literally love snow days. I've been writing ALL MORNING. Teaching has its ups and downs, but this is definitely an up.


End file.
